already dreading his next words.
“You're grounded.” With that, he lifted up into the air, and the gold balloon drifted off towards Port Enshus.
She groaned and steered the jolly boat after him, grumbling to herself all the way. Vic awaited her on Kelpie Wharf, looking as weary as it was possible for a cadaver to appear without actually being dead. “Punished?”
She glared at him angrily, then she slumped and heaved a deep sigh. “Grounded.”
“Deserved.”
“You won't be saying that when I can't get you that lady cadaver I promised.”
He looked stricken. “So lonely.”
“Tell me about it.” They trudged forlornly along the foggy, weathered wharf, side by side in their misery. After a moment, she peered at him. “Well, that explains all the ghosts, I reckon.”
Vic was silent a moment. “Maybe.” His moan conveyed doubt.
But just then, something flickered in the fog ahead. A very beautiful woman, her long hair blowing out behind her, floated towards them out of the mist. She opened her mouth, and the sweetest, saddest lament poured from somewhere deep inside her. She lifted a hand to them, as though in supplication, and a spectral tear streaked down her cheek. Agnes could see the faintest impression of the village through her translucent, shimmering body.
Agnes nudged Vic gleefully. “Vic!” She did not speak loudly, for she did not wish to startle the vision before them. “Look! It's her! Luther was telling the truth. Kelpie Wharf really is haunted.”
“Siren,” Vic muttered, and his mouth turned down in a gloomy frown.
“Come on! We could bust that ghost easy!”
He shook his head firmly. “Grounded.”
“Ah, Vic! At least let me find out if she's all gassy.”
“Grounded.”
She stomped her foot, glowered between Vic and the crooning ghost, who did not approach closer but seemed to be beckoning them to step nearer to her. Agnes ignored her and strode right past, scowling. “Fine.”
The ghostly woman spun in mid-air to watch them go with a sulky expression.
“See if I ever do a good deed again,” Agnes complained. “I saved all those sailors from becoming monster slaves to a raving lunatic, and all I got was punishment. That lunatic did give me an idea, though. Vic, how would you feel about a whole army of re-animated clockwork cadavers?”
Vic sighed wearily. “Created a monster.”
THE END
Little Agnes and the Ghosts of Kelpie Wharf Page 12